Blood and Bones and the Overseer
by fullydisabled
Summary: The story of two young NOD soldiers begins. In the midst of battle they must find themselves in order to survive. They are thrown into the midst of a terrible force wreaking havoc on GDI and NOD alike, and it may demand the alliance of two sworn enemies..
1. First Strike Part 1

**A few notes:**

I do not own Command & Conquer, Tiberian Sun, or Firestorm, nor do I claim to. Based on my opinion, some aspects of the games have been changed to suit the story I want.

Additional information on this story can be found on my profile. I suggest you read it.

**Warning!** May contain excessive cursing.

You have my sincere thanks for viewing my story! I would greatly appreciate any reviews – after you've read what I have, of course. R&R, basically. Enjoy!

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Hyaka settled the long metal tube on his shoulder, and glanced around the battlefield from his crouched position behind the black wall that surrounded the perimeter of the base. A herd of strange jelly-legged creatures were approaching, their mushroom-like heads spewing poisonous fogs. He dropped one of his armoured knees to the ground, raising a slight cloud of dust, and heard the other rocket infantry beside him doing the same. He tapped the tube with his gauntlet, emptying it of ashes, then hefted it up, sighting unblinkingly along its shaft. It was cool against his bare cheek.

His hand rested comfortingly on the trigger, and a faint smile lit his young face fleetingly. He pulled his finger back, felt the tube heat unthinkably fast, and, with a tiny burst of light, a rocket the size of a fist shot out at the monsters, exploding on contact. Hyaka's entire arm shook form the recoil, despite the firm hand clamped on the launcher.

"Good job," the other man murmured, indicating the remains of the target. If they had been attacking infantry from the GDI, he wouldn't have had the luxury of speaking those words. Hyaka did not respond.

Instead, he placed the launcher on the ground, reloaded it, sliding multiple rockets into the weapon, and lifted it back to his hard, silver shoulder.

A voice behind him said gruffly, "Hyaka?"

"Sir?" he answered automatically. He took aim at the land jellies again.

The stranger addressed the other rocket infantry.

"Rico?"

"Yes, sir?"

The reply was half-lost when Hyaka fired the rocket with a crack. He could almost feel an amused gaze boring into his back, until an explosion killed off the rest of the creatures.

"You're to put some new land on the radar to the west. There's a tiberian field to check out before we get a harvester there."

Rico dropped his launcher on the ground, turning to face the light infantry giving the order. He raised an eyebrow and said, "You name." He obviously did not know it already.

"Mair," was the reply. "And watch your trap." Mair slapped Hyaka, who was taking a sip of water, on the back, causing him to silently double over, and then stalked off, though not before shooting Rico a threatening glance and adding, "Or I'll blast it off."

"The nerve of that guy," Rico grumbled, when Mair had gone. "Ass."

"I already knew that," Hyaka grunted, getting heavily to his feet and gathering his supplies. He gave one last cough, then brought the launcher to his shoulder. "Better get going."

An hour later Hyaka and Rico stood in a deserted field with their rocket launchers perched on unhappy shoulders. There was nothing but sand in sight, and the occasional stream. It was getting dark, but the stars had not yet shown their faces. A cool breeze swept the sand into miniature dunes, and ruffled the NOD soldiers' short black hair. There seemed to be no life here at all.

Hyaka started when an explosion sounded to his left, then scowled and tightened his grip in frustration. He spun towards Rico. "Quit shootin' everything!"

Rico made a face. "What else is there to do? Maybe you're older and more experienced, but I don't know how you can stand this nothingness!"

"Look," Hyaka growled, leaning forward to be at eye level with the other soldier; "We're here on a mission, and you know the consequences for failure."

"Right, send us out to a desert to find a tiberian field that may or may not exist," Rico retorted. "What fun."

The older man looked at his comrade with a straight face, then shook his head and continued walking.

Not far ahead the faint green glow of life alerted the two soldiers to the presence of a tiberian field. At first, Rico was alarmed, but he was instantly reassured when he saw Hyaka calmly settling a lightly-shaded pair of spectacles on the bridge of his nose. He was confused, and a bit startled – he was quite tempted to do the same in case his companion knew something he didn't and should have known. Except he didn't have a pair of shades to wear.

Hyaka peered over his glasses, making a last minute check for dangers, before pushing them into position. His right arm was wearing out, but with the little training he'd done with his left side, it would be next to impossible to switch shoulders. He grimaced at the thought of damaging his right side, which would render him utterly useless as a rocket infantry – the one ranking he simply could not pass up. Then he happened to glance at Rico's face.

Rico looked up inquiringly at him, silently pestering him for an answering explanation. Hyaka almost laughed at the childish expression, thinking about how little the GDI would pay to see it. Unfortunately, a vague shadow of that thought did not evade Rico, and he growled, "What?"

Then time Hyaka laughed out right. It held no cheer. "Nothing."

Rico sneered. "Yeah, whatever. Now, if you're done, what's with the shades?"

Hyaka didn't answer. He turned his gaze forward, parallel with his weapon, and mutter something inaudible.

"Sorry-" Rico began, hoping for dear life that he hadn't struck the wrong chord.

"My friend," Hyaka said finally, not facing any direction other than straight ahead. He didn't sound distant; nor did he appear to be. His grip did strengthen on his launcher, however, and his step grew firmer, as if he were recalling a distant decision that would influence him now. "My friend… was a good person. A lot of people I knew cared like he did. But then they began to stand out more as the amount of people who had hardened their hearts and thought along the lines of 'it's every man for himself' increased. No one knew who they wanted to idolize anymore."

Rico looked towards the approaching field, trying to imagine everything being said. He couldn't help but think that even if Hyaka befriended kind people, Hyaka himself was cold, unreadable, and indifferent. What struck Rico as strange was he could understand and relate to what was heard. Maybe Hyaka was all too human, and was a result of how 'no one know who they wanted to idolize anymore.' But Hyaka didn't care. He didn't look up to anyone. He was out for himself. He had a heart of ice. Could a man with such truly have friends? Did they call him 'Ice Heart'?

"He was killed by GDI… In a tiberian field just like this one," Hyaka continued. Rico shivered. Were they next? "It was the tiberian glare that snatched his soul and held it captive while they tortured it." He stared at the ground. Could light kill? "It was dark. Like now." He was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Did Hyaka have to find and present similarities between that night and this one? "The GDI played it smart. They attacked once he had adjusted his sight to the glow and would have difficulties seeing in the darkness right away. He and many of his comrades were killed." From the finality in Hyaka's tone, Rico knew that was all he was going to get.

He asked, "How did you find out about it? Were you there?"

"A few escaped."

"And you heard from them?"

"…Yes."

"And that's why you're wearing shades?"

"…"

"Should I be – ow!" Rico felt a searing pain sweep up his leg, and he looked down to see a fluorescent-green plant stabbed at his ankle, just barely breaking through his black boot. It was hard and spiked, glowing, and pointed out erratically from its spot on the ground like a fern. Or an evergreen with its needles facing the wrong way – up instead of down. It was tiberian. They'd reached the field much more than was expected. He jerked away, coming free, then was suddenly thrown onto his side, his rocket launcher thudding on the ground beside him.


	2. First Strike Part 2

**A few notes:**

I do not own Command & Conquer, Tiberian Sun, or Firestorm, nor do I claim to. Based on my opinion, some aspects of the games have been changed to suit the story I want.

Additional information on this story can be found on my profile. I suggest you read it.

**Warning!** May contain excessive cursing.

You have my sincere thanks for viewing my story! I would greatly appreciate any reviews – after you've read what I have, of course. R&R, basically. Enjoy!

------------------------------------------------------

Hyaka saw the black claw emerge from the darkness, and he immediately knew what it was. The sound of rocks in a wooden jar – the rattle of bony plates – broke the stillness, and he shoved Rico aside. Flat, sharp spikes, like the plates on the back of a stegosaurus, glowing eerily, embedded themselves in his left forearm – where Rico's head had been a split second ago. Hyaka winced, refusing to examine the wound. The only thing on his mind was how he would deal with the recoil of his weapon.

Rico looked up, startled to see blood dripping from the tips of the plates in Hyaka's arm. He saw the claw and scrambled to his feet, dragging his launched back to his shoulder. At that moment, two tiberium fiends emerged. They were completely black in the armour that encased their bodies, and seemed to be crosses between hedgehogs, with the legs of bears and the talons of a velociraptor. They had gently-pulsing plates on their backs into of needles, and ghostly green eyes.

"Pigs?" Rico said sarcastically, referring to the indeed-pig-like snout.

Hyaka responded by swearing and sent a rocket at the closest boar monster. He stumbled back, and fired another before the other one could react.

Rico slammed his left hand against the bottom of the shaft and pulled the trigger twice before retreating a few steps. Hyaka fell in beside him, still cursing. Without the full use of his entire body, his right arm was taking too much weight, as well as with his left leg for one too many wrong steps in an effort to support himself. "Damn! I hope you can make this up, Rico," he muttered, and Rico asked, "Has is occurred to you that you can put it down?"

"Are you out of your - " Hyaka and Rico dropped low on their knees as a sudden barrage of spikes passed overhead. "Wait… a moment…" Hyaka glanced up, then at where he would believe the creatures were, assuming they were together. "Firepower isn't going to be as effective." He looked at Rico fearlessly. "Empty your ammo."

"What - ?"

"I said fucking empty – "

"Alright! Alright! I heard you," Rico said hastily, pulling open the slide and retrieving the unused rockets. He secured them in the pack on his back. He was about to close it when Hyaka took the launcher from his hands. "Hey, I better get it back –"

"You won't be."

"You've gotta be kidding."

"Too bad for you I'm not."

"What's wrong with you? You won't put yours on the ground but you'd destroy mine without a second thought?"

"Yours is an older model – no one'll miss it."

"They'll say that if I can't take care of an old one I can't take care of a new one!"

"And maybe you can't," Hyaka replied, abruptly shoving the launcher back into Rico's hands.

Rico looked at it, uncertain of what to think, then looked at his comrade suspiciously. "What's you do to it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Sure?"

"Are you English-incompetent?"

Rico turned away.

Hyaka returned his attention to the dispersing cloud of smoke, noting a pair of green slits gazing out somewhat nonchalantly. "Make yourself useful and take some of the recoil."

Rico grumbled a complaint but did not protest. He threw himself on Hyaka's right and steadied the launcher on the other soldier's shoulder with his left hand, using the other to stiffen the end in case it decided to try blowing Hyaka's arm off in the opposite direction. Then he mutter, "Selfish, ain'tcha? Doing all that just so it _had_ to be quicker to use yours."

The soft voice, slightly raspy, that replied sounded almost distant and lost in the darkness. "Mistakes have been made, are being made, and will always be made. Failure is the only thing that changes the ways of humans." There was a pause, and the launcher shifted somewhat. "Even I make mistakes." Hyaka was suddenly leaning heavily on Rico, having just narrowly avoided a volley of spikes that were now half-hidden in the ground behind them. With obvious difficulty, he hauled himself back upright, then asked, "Ready?" Without waiting for an answer he pulled the trigger twice and was thrown a full length with a bewildered Rico in tow.

"The hell-?" They yelled at each other, flung into the sand.

Hyaka lay still, his shades fallen beside his head and his weapon an unpleasant weight against his chest. When the dust around them settled he opened one eye to glance at his comrade's condition. "You know you're supposed to be ready at all times." Rico sat up quickly, on the look out for enemies, and said, "One more second and I'd've been ready."

"Sometimes you don't get any seconds, Rico."

Rico shook his head in sad realization and knowing, and swallowed the protest that had risen in his throat despite the argument that so much wanted to escape. He occupied himself by examining the other soldier's wound. "Shouldn't we dress that?" he asked. The plates had dulled to a gloomy green under the thick red liquid, both fresh and dry, that had seeped over them. Just attempting to imagine what the pain was like made him shiver, but Hyaka did not seem too bothered by it besides the fact that he could not use that arm much. Until now.

Hyaka suddenly groaned and rolled over onto his side, allowing his left arm to sit loosely. The spikes were clearly heavy, and likely painful. His launcher clanked to the ground like a dark bell, heavily muffled, in front of him. His shades, behind him now, stood forgotten, lonely, and foreign. He was already curling into a ball of protection, as if that injury would simply vanish into the darkness if he shut off all connection to the world.

Rico straightened even more, alarmed. He was no expert, but his comrade was obviously suffering. He didn't have a first aid kit, nor did he know how to treat such a wound. Where was a medic when you needed one? And why had they been sent out as a pair? Why not a trio?

"Because… we are disposable…"

Rico jumped, realizing that he had been thinking aloud. It surprised him that Hyaka could even speak. His partner had managed to partly control himself, and was clutching his left elbow with his right hand so hard that the blood flow had slowed.

"Generally… no one really cares except those close to us… or if we are killed in the masses. After all… NOD pays to use us." Rico nodded grimly at this. "We don't get paid for this… not really. Some people can't understand why we do it. It's just…" At that moment the rumble of a subterranean vehicle emerging from below interrupted, and the mighty drill appeared first, twirling furiously, followed by the body. It had the make of a termite minus its legs, and was complexly painted in reds and blacks. "… a subterranean APC?"

"Not just a subterranean APC," Rico said excitedly, "…reinforcements."


	3. Disagreements

**A few notes:**

I do not own Command & Conquer, Tiberian Sun, or Firestorm, nor do I claim to. Based on my opinion, some aspects of the games have been changed to suit the story I want.

Additional information on this story can be found on my profile. I suggest you read it.

**Warning!** May contain excessive cursing.

You have my sincere thanks for viewing my story! I would greatly appreciate any reviews – after you've read what I have, of course. R&R, basically. Enjoy!

------------------------------------------------------

The hatch on the side swung up once the APC had ground to a halt, and a NOD soldier stepped out with his machine gun aimed at them. He was covered entirely in black, battle-worn armour. Rounded plates on his shoulders, knees, and elbows were engraved with a pair of down-facing, crimson arrows each, one over the other, and his boots reached up to his shins. He wore a helmet that concealed his face. The main structure was a type of motorcyclist head gear, and the visor sported red markings. There was a "y" shaped figure on it, spreading across the eyes down the nose to the chin, and around it were various spots to filter the air. His breath and steps were silent, and only the clank of his weapon sounded into the cold, dark quiet.

Rico froze, suddenly feeling quite helpless and vulnerable. This was an intimidating presence, and with his experienced comrade down and the condition of the tiberium creatures uncertain, he was at a complete loss at what to do. He had the vague sense that the soldier was looking them over and verifying their identities, and that made him even more uneasy. It was, or it felt like, a long time before the stranger gestured towards the APC with one hand and approached Hyaka. Rico, not wanting to risk disobedience, climbed into the vehicle. He was greeted by three men dressed like the man outside, all seated on narrow, built-in benches along the walls opposite each other. They looked up at him with little interest. They were light infantry, except for a single rocket infantry near the back.

The rocket infantry, who had his launcher on the floor leaning against his leg, waved him to the opposite seat, and when Rico hesitated, the wave became more insistent. He sat down nervously, and forced himself to face the infantry. Were they allowed to speak? No one had yet said a word. But he knew the others were watching him expectantly, even behind their masks.

He didn't know what to say. "Uh…"

There was a soft murmur, and it took him a moment to realize that they were laughing at him. He might have replied with anger, but their atmosphere of superiority kept him from doing so. Instead, he said nothing and stared back at the rocket infantry across from him. He turned his gaze back to the door as the soldier outside entered with Hyaka by his side.

The soldier was supporting Hyaka by the free arm, and was speaking quietly enough that Rico could not make out any words. Hyaka only nodded and allowed himself to be escorted to the back, where the grey door to a room closed behind them.

"That's Esheika."

Rico blinked and turned to the rocket infantry in surprise. Obviously, not speaking was all part of a good image and first impression. He finally found the courage to speak, and managed to ask, "How come you had different armour?

It was the other man's turn to be surprised. "It's for veterans," he said. "Soldiers who have earned ten times their worth in kills."

Rico was puzzled. Surely Hyaka had been in this war long enough to be considered a veteran. Had all that intelligent talk and calmness been an act? Or was he just really close?

"Is Hyaka –" Rico began.

"Hyaka is an odd one," was the reply. "He's a veteran, but he's only worn his armour once. When you become a veteran, you get better armour and weapons. He was being bugged about not wearing his armour so much that he gave in by telling everyone that this was his last mission without properly displaying his rank."

Rico took a moment to think about that. Was that why… why what? He shook his head. There was nothing to think about – everything was just as it was. But it did explain why Hyaka had commented on Rico's model being "old."

"Uh… May I ask your name?"

"Of course."

No other words followed, and Rico's breathing sounded like a tornado to himself in the uncomfortable silence. He had the notion that everyone was wearing a grin, and he felt like a dead weight among the elite. He clenched his jaw and ploughed forward.

"What is your name?"

"I'm Aera. Those two are Larairus and Mikura."

Neither Larairus or Mikura acknowledge him, so Rico didn't say anything either. Another uneasy quiet followed, in which Aera finally asked, "And you are?"

"Rico."

"Who sent you here?"

"Someone called Mair."

Before there could be an answer, Rico heard Larairus laugh bitterly. "Surely Hyaka knew better," he said. "That bastard Mair is a real ass…"

"Mair can be a real troublemaker," Mikura added quietly, his head facing the ground. "If you don't interpret his orders properly, you can get into some big trouble. He doesn't give _wrong_ orders, but his wording can really throw you off if you're not careful."

Rico shook his head. "He didn't say anything odd or confusing. The order was perfectly clear."

"Really?" Aera snorted. "Well, that's a surprise. Can you repeat it?"

"The order? He said, 'put some new land on the radar to the west. There's a tiberium field to look at before we send in a harvester.'"

"Did he say that you specifically were to find the tiberium field?"

Larairus asked, "Did he say to actually leave the base?"

Rico stared at Aera, starting to see his error. It wasn't perfectly clear at all. But it had sounded right, and all the words and concepts fit well. Was that what made Mair so tricky? Did he rehearse what he would say before saying it?

He answered, "No to both."

He imagined the three veterans exchanging glances.

"It may have been what was heard," Mikura said. "After all, you went west and found a tiberium field in an unknown area. Mair doesn't always mess up his words. Where's the fun in having everyone know to be careful? If he is straightforward sometimes, you waste a lot of time trying to find loopholes that aren't there."

Rico was only half-listening now. He knew it was rude, especially against his superiors, but he was stuck on worry. Would Hyaka be alright? He'd heard that tiberium could poison humans, and even cause them to mutate. Those pigs – the tiberium fiends – were likely former soldiers. Would comradeship save anyone? What was it like to change so much; to have one's mind and body completely transformed? He worried that Hyaka would come for him, because if it weren't for him, Hyaka wouldn't have been hurt at all. He shuddered at the thought, and suddenly snapped back to reality at the sound of Aera's voice.

"Rico?"

Rico blinked, momentarily dazed.

"Something wrong?"

"Oh, uh…" He didn't want to express too much concern should it make a mockery of him. So he asked, "What about Hyaka's launcher? I didn't see them come in with it."

"It's in the back."

"Won't he need it? Just in case?"

He had the feeling that Aera was staring at him.

"Do you honestly think that he can hold it – let alone use it?"

Rico fell silent. How could he have been so insensitive? And so stupid in front of these soldiers – and these soldiers especially?

"But I can understand why you might think so," Aera said. "He was perfectly fine until we arrived, wasn't he?" Rico nodded hesitantly, confused. "He'd work himself to death unless a – it's safe; or b – someone takes over. Or until he's dead."

"It's difficult to find someone like that," Larairus added. "Someone to admire. But with that personality, it can be hard to like him. I think…" He paused, and it was impossible to tell where he was looking, or what expression had flashed across his face. "I think people like Hyaka suffer within themselves more than some soldiers do physically."

"And they see a lot more. They see, experience, and think about things no one else has ever even considered," Mikura put in timidly, as if he might have been one of them.

Rico shook his head. "I don't think Hyaka suffers anything internally. He doesn't care about anyone or anything."

Aera replied this time. "Don't be so sure. Those spikes aren't in his arm for nothing."

Rico's gaze fell guiltily to the ground. Would these men continue to find fault and flaw in everything he said and did? Until their ways parted? He mumbled, "What do you mean?"

"Sorry?"

Larairus, who seemed to be the one who noted all the details, repeated what was said.

"What do you mean, 'What do you mean'?" Aera said angrily, and he was suddenly on his feet with his launcher in hand. "'_What do you mean'?_" He jabbed Rico painfully in the collarbone with his armoured finger. "What do _you_ mean, huh? What the fuck do you mean? Are you nothing? Do you deserve to die? Hyaka didn't do that for _nothing._ It wasn't for you, I suppose. He _could have let you die._ But he _didn't._ So unless you're _nothing,_ Hyaka saw something in you. He would have come out unscathed if it weren't for you. So the least you can do is _be grateful._ Otherwise… Fuck. You."

In the deathly silence that follow, Aera steped back in one sweeping motion and his free hand fell into the universal symbol for a gun on his outstretched arm. He imitated the recoil of such a weapon, and, seeming to sneer behind his blood-red visor, had it target Rico's skull. Diagonally behind him, Larairus jerked his head impossibly subtly towards the front of the APC, but Aera seemed to see it. He retreated another foot, his gaze locked on his victim, then he turned sharply and disappeared behind the wall that separated the driver from the passengers without a backwards glance.

At first Rico thought he was being thrown out, and that Aera's mood decided who stayed. When he realized that this was not so, and Larairus' signal had nothing to do with him, he didn't know whether or not to be relieved. It frightened him to have angry comrades even more than gunfire. When those on your own side did not accept you, no one else would. He wished someone would have come to his aid. What would Hyaka have done? Would he have intervened? Or stood by, watching? After all, it didn't concern him. What about in Rico's place? _Then he'd never be in this situation, _he thought bitterly. This brought him back to the fact that it was _he_ who'd began everything in the first place.

Mikura seemed to notice Rico's cheerless face. "Don't take it too hard," he said quietly. "Aera's just –"

"Shut up Mikura," Larairus growled.

"Rico –"

His voice grew dangerously soft. "I said, _shut up._"

Mikura did stop speaking for a moment. Then – "Larairus."

Larairus stood up, his rifle clanking against his side. He could now be seen as quite tall, about Hyaka's height, maybe taller, but his thin frame was not to be underestimated as easily bowled over. "Didn't you hear me? I said to _fucking shut up,_ damn you!"

"Larairus!" Mikura was trying to resolve the situation. His hands were balled into fists, but Rico, reluctantly admitting, noted that he didn't look in the least threatening – especially with his small size. "We have to –"

The other man's visor came up, revealing a young soldier in his mid-twenties with short, jet-black hair, hard, grey eyes, and a clean-shaven face. He glared fiercely at his comrade. "Shit." He pressed the door open with one hand, stepped out, and was gone.


	4. Arrival

**A few notes:**

I do not own Command & Conquer, Tiberian Sun, or Firestorm, nor do I claim to. Based on my opinion, some aspects of the games have been changed to suit the story I want.

Additional information on this story can be found on my profile. I suggest you read it.

**Warning!** May contain excessive cursing.

You have my sincere thanks for viewing my story! I would greatly appreciate any reviews – after you've read what I have, of course. R&R, basically. Enjoy!

------------------------------------------------------

They stared after him, equally surprised by his reaction. Rico hoped Mikura wouldn't turn on him. Anger always seemed to be contagious, and was usually directed at the youngest, most inexperienced person of the group. He sighed, slowly forming an apology in his mind, fearing that any more disputes could grow into a problem. Without the cooperation and friendship of his comrades, survival was just that much more difficult.

"They're just upset that you didn't seem grateful," Mikura said suddenly.

"Uh – but Larairus –"

"Larairus," he interrupted, "is no one to worry over. He's usually alright, but comforting others is something he won't tolerate if he can get away with it. And with the way Aera acted, he's on edge – tense. He'll probably avoid referring to what happened here."

"Why? Is Aera usually calm?" Rico was beginning to feel more annoyed and sulky over guilty and shameful. What was with everyone? They were so uptight and quick to anger. Was someone pulling on their leashes? Was Rico going to be caught in that net as well?

"Well… yeah. He's the leader right now." Rico felt alone now. He'd thought he'd found a friend in Aera, but he'd made an enemy. Mikura's voice dropped to a whisper. "And… he can't decide if women should have the right to be soldiers."

Rico blinked, utterly confused. What did that have to do with anything?

"It's not that he can't… Larairus, I mean… he can't decide if women can be soldiers. It's not that he can't – doesn't think they should be allowed." Mikura's hands came up and gripped his helmet as Rico waited for him to continue. He pulled it off and set it down on the bench.

Rico, who was studying the floor at the time, saw the piece of armour come down in his peripheral vision and looked up to come face to face with a woman likely in her early twenties. Her blondish-brown hair was spiked towards her right, and was only just long enough to catch the wind. She had a slender jaw that tapered off to a tiny chin, but she looked like she was built for war, not comfortable living or play-fighting. She regarded him steadily through hazel eyes and said, "He just doesn't know."

"But…" Rico was surprised and puzzled, not quite believing. But he knew what was going on. There was nothing wrong. One did not become someone else simply because one put on a mask. She was no different. He had made assumptions. He knew the facts now, but he could not let that change his perspective. She was still Mikura. "It doesn't matter. You made it this far – you're a veteran!"

"With help."

"No one gets by alone."

"Some do."

"They don't fault themselves for it."

"How would you know?"

Now it was Rico's turn to be angry. "Are you trying to prove you can do this or you can't?" he demanded. "Pity never got anyone anywhere!"

Mikura seemed taken aback by the sudden outburst. She didn't say anything, and she did not avert her gaze, yet she didn't appear to focus on Rico, either. She was looking past him. Rico then realized that someone was standing almost behind him. He turned slowly, then snapped back to face straight ahead. A big hand settled on his shoulder. "Rico." It was Aera. He turned again. "Where's Larairus?" Aera didn't sound angry.

"He got out," Rico responded, determined to show he could be useful.

"That idiot," Aera muttered. "I hope he didn't plan on walking. He could get himself killed."

"Larairus knows better," Mikura said with a small smile.

"Well, with us or not, we're moving in 30 seconds. He either dies or he makes it." Despite Aera's words, there was little doubt that 'he either dies' would be a lot more punishing than he made it sound.

Mikura nodded and sat back. Rico found it hard to settle in. Everyone seemed to be so tense and quick to anger, or was acting oddly. Or, at least, oddly around _him._ Was something going on? He frowned at the floor. If everyone was keeping a secret, they were going a good job. He wondered if it had anything to do with status. They were all superior soldiers – maybe the 'new people' were often found to be burdens. But that wasn't fair. He'd hardly ever been out – they couldn't judge him like this. Not this early.

The door in the back suddenly slid open and Esheika – or supposedly Esheika- stepped forward, shutting it behind him. Or her. He strode forward, and Rico could just sense the authority in his firm and steady steps. He gave Rico and Mikura a swift nod without halting for a proper greeting, and disappeared to the front. He didn't seem to have even acknowledged Aera's presence, but Rico had the notion that they had exchanged glances through their crimson visors as he passed. He guessed that Esheika was not going to be someone well-known to him, nor someone he would be talking to anytime soon.

The APC started to rumble, and it jerked in such a steep downward motion that Rico found himself thrown sideways against Mikura. But she was ready. She'd held her arm towards the ceiling with he elbow at shoulder height, and her other hand was grasping a handle above her that Rico hadn't noticed before. Obviously, this was to be expected from veterans who knew how to stay comfortable in vehicles. At that moment, all Rico knew was pain in his shoulder from slamming into Mikura's armoured forearm. He was surprised at the strength she had to remain exactly as she was, and prevent him from throwing her into disarray as well, at the same time.

Aera hadn't moved – he'd clamped a hand on a bar built into the wall. When the APC righted itself and caught a regular pace, Rico was grateful he'd been holding onto his launcher, as he returned to his former seat. He didn't bother apologizing – no one would care. Why would they? It was his own fault and he'd paid for it in bruises.

Aera and Mikura let go. Mikura put her helmet back on, and Rico lost that sense of knowing and understanding; as if she had just shrouded herself in a darkness that he could not penetrate. It was just him now. He had no fog in which to hide – only the beacon of light that marked him as useless. No, just worthless.

He glanced at the door through which Larairus had vanished, realizing no one had closed it, only to find it shut. Aera must have closed it. The APC likely wouldn't have been able to get underground if there was a protruding object.

Aera sat down close to the edge of the opposite bench after what felt like hours. Rico wondered if Esheika had more power than Aera. But in the back of his mind, he knew it was so. Esheika seemed to have an air about him that made everyone hurry to their duties and respond to his orders without question. He acted like a real commander whom not everyone would have a chance to meet. He also likely knew everything that was going on. But just how high was Esheika on the chain of command? Mikura had said Aera was the 'leader.' So what was going on?

The three spent the trip lost in their own thoughts, and no one left or entered the room, nor did anyone speak a word. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. It was rather relaxing, or, at least, calming, and all the anger in Aera seemed to have evaporated. This, Rico was glad for.

When the APC angled upward – Rico was ready this time – and finally halted, Rico was almost asleep. There had been nothing much to do than think. Esheika appeared and did not even look at them. He pushed through the door before the APC had completely stopped, hopping out nimbly with his rifle at the ready. Aera stood up and motioned them to follow. He stepped outside with Mikura close behind. Rico did the same, and blinked in the sudden light. They were at the major NOD base of the region.

They were just outside the black stone walls. Ahead was a grey gate marked in yellow and black stripes at the top. On either side was a gigantic gun-like structure painted red and black – lasers for shooting down unwelcome guests. Groups of bored-looking light infantry guarded this area, chatting, practicing, and surveying. There was a sound of a weight being dropped on the sand behind the newcomers, and Rico turned around, wondering what was next. Larairus, visor down, had jumped from the back of the APC to the ground – Rico knew it was Larairus from the way he had slung his rifle over a single shoulder instead of over the head as well. But how had he gotten to the base so quickly?

"Rico."

A cold, rough hand seized his jaw and forced his head back towards the base. It was Mikura. But she wasn't looking at him. Esheika was approaching the gate, and they were to follow. Mikura took a few steps before releasing him, and did not make sure he was following. He went with them, clutching his launcher tightly to his shoulder.

One of the guards noticed them, and nudged another soldier nearby to alert him to their presence. It wasn't long until both groups, large as they were, had formed up in precise ranks and files and, standing at attention, were saluting. It seemed that Esheika was an officer. Rico found it strange that even with armour, everyone knew each other; but then, posture and the way one carried oneself was very important. And Esheika was definitely an intimidating figure demanding regard.

He was relived to see that there were newer soldiers such as himself amongst the veterans – so he wasn't the only one.

Then someone approached from behind the ranks and stood before the gate. Esheika didn't hesitate and continued. He stopped just in front of the other man.

At first glance, Rico had thought this other person was another veteran, but he was wrong. The armour was different. The edges of the different pieces – such as the shoulders and knees – were engraved with a single line of polished silver. His helmet was adorned with a streak of the same hue, one on each cheek, and the NOD emblem – a scorpion's tail inside a triangle with its corners missing – on his chest was grey. This was certainly no veteran. This was an elite. There were very few of them in the entire army. With the requirement of so much experience, skill, and leadership, it was extremely difficult to rise to such a rank.

Esheika must have spoken, and very quietly, for Rico haven't heard any of it, because the elite nodded and stepped aside, slinging his rifle over his head. Esheika gestured towards the gate, looking back at his comrades, before moving forward again. The big structure trembled, and Rico felt the floor vibrate as it slid roughly into the trench in which it was built. Esheika stepped over it and everyone else followed suit. He gave Aera a nod, and, before a word could be said, he was already gone into the maze of buildings.

The gate closed behind them, and Aera stepped forward. "Right," he said. "We're dismissed for now."


End file.
